Powerplay
by Stalactite Stiletto
Summary: Life at Capsule Corp goes on like normal, and Vegeta is training hard until he catches Bulma in a compromising position that could seriously alter their relationship. Unfortunately for Yamucha, he acquires a ruthless rival for Bulma's affections.
1. Chapter 1

Her shareholder meeting seemed to go on for hours. Average people might take pleasure in the hors d'oeuvres and flowing champagne, but Bulma's head was buzzing. Maybe it was the stress. Her duties at work were piling up higher than ever as her father weaned himself off CEO duties. Her father had never enjoyed the business aspect of Capsule Corp and left as many administration duties as possible to his peers (or more often, his daughter). His happiness came from invention: sleepless nights in his lab followed by blissful afternoon naps under his desk. This left Bulma taking on more than her share, as she herself needed time alone to tinker with equipment and plans. This third flute of champagne, of course, was not helping her avoid a migraine.

The chatter of her colleagues grated on her nerves, like woodpeckers slowly chinking away at bark. _This must be how Vegeta feels when left alone with mom_ , she thought with a barely noticeable smirk.

Vegeta, the most stressful woodpecker of them all…. No RFPs at the office were too boring an escape from Vegeta's screeching voice. She thought back to that day on the terrace after their return from Namek…. How blissful they had all been that day, riding the euphoria of the team's victory against Frieza. Perhaps she got caught up in the glow that day when she offered Vegeta a home at the compound. He had just returned to life with no home and no friends, nothing to his name except the clothes on his back, and even those were dirty and tattered. Bulma must not have grasped what life with Vegeta would be like back then, but she sure did now. Day in and day out: yelling, squabbling over nothing…. eggs or no eggs, 250 or 300 times' gravity, dinner at 7 or dinner at 9, a bed or a cot. Anything Bulma did or said seemed to annoy him, but avoiding him seemed to annoy him even more. There was no winning and there was no escape.

Edmond Salvich—a fat, middle-aged manager whose eyes rarely rose above her chest when he spoke to her—was talking again, and that was the last straw. Bulma finished the dregs of her champagne with an unceremonious chug and slapped the glass back on the table, excusing herself and bidding goodnight. The family chauffeur was waiting outside and fled to fetch the car when he saw Bulma swaying through the lobby. Truthfully, her buzzed stumble in heels still looked more graceful than that of most ladies at the hotel. The car arrived, and before long she was on her way home.

During the drive Bulma stared out the window, making lists as she always did. First thing's first when she gets home: take an aspirin, make a cappuccino, pour a small pinot noir, set up her Bluetooth speaker in the bathroom, run a hot bubble bath, and let the relaxation commence! When she arrived at the compound, she made a careful effort to come in through the back—the farthest entrance from the Gravity Room so as to avoid His Royal Pain in the Ass. Successfully reaching her bedroom unseen, she set to gathering the essentials. Being a stickler for the high life, she kept a mini fridge and an espresso machine in her bedroom, which adjoined a master bath with a luxurious oval Jacuzzi tub. She set the tone with relaxing, quiet background music and set to drawing the bath. The aromas of her bath salts drifted down the hallway as she began to disrobe. Her stifling suit jacket and pencil skirt were thrown on her bed. Bulma's negligée made it into the bathroom before they too met the floor.

Bulma carefully stepped into the tub, her sources of caffeine and alcohol already waiting for her on the flat outer surface. She enjoyed the warm water and let her muscles relax for the first time all day. The music lulled her, and her favorite drinks soothed her senses to the point of mush. This is what she'd needed. This is what every challenging day at Capsule Corp usually culminated to.

Well, often they led to something _else_ too. Would tonight be another hot "alone session" in the tub? An orgasm always helped Bulma cope with stress, and since Yamucha typically could not bring her there, her pleasure was a matter left to private nights like this one. She grinned at the notion, but then thought better of it. Lately she had been completely stunted in the arousal department. She couldn't remember the last time it had worked. Had it been weeks? Months? She would try to engage herself in all the usual ways, but lately Bulma just could not get a rise out of herself, compounding her frustrations. She was always annoyed—annoyed with work, annoyed with her friends who never visited, annoyed with her mother with whom she could barely hold a conversation, annoyed with her supposed boyfriend who couldn't find time to visit her amidst his own training regimen, and who no doubt gallivanted on the town with Tien every night afterwards, annoyed with…. VEGETA! UUUGH.

Bulma's frustration was so palpable that she let out a shrill hiss in the bath. Even in her bath, her private space, he invaded her calm. He was the most obnoxious, intrusive, selfish person she had ever met. He bothered her constantly. He was surely the reason she was so _pent up_! She cursed his name and laid her head back against the tub. _That bastard better not come bowling through the house demanding a late supper_. He was Bunny's problem tonight. Bulma had done enough cooking, serving, cleaning, fixing, and mothering on behalf of that pompous oaf. _He never appreciates it._ He followed her around everywhere. All he did was sneer, eat, complain, and train. Bulma pictured him then, emerging from the Gravity Room in the afternoon sun just like he did yesterday with sweat glistening down his neck, across his chest, down his waist and into his shorts—his tight little shorts. He had put his hands behind his hips and bent back slightly to stretch. His hair, wet with sweat, hung unusually flat and clung to his neck halfway down his back. He had looked sideways at her while he stretched and raised an eyebrow in her direction. It had almost seemed mischievous.

Vegeta was actually extremely attractive when he was silent. Sometimes she would linger on the lawn when the Gravity Room was inoperable and read so that she might clandestinely watch him train and meditate.

Bulma then thought of Vegeta as a Saiyan – the last of his culture, as limited as his time on Vegeta-sei was. She thought of how lonely that existence must be, living hundreds of thousands of light-years from the place you knew as home, and knowing that your family, your people, and your planet were all dead. _It's no wonder he's angry,_ she always had to remind herself. No doubt his quest for revenge against Frieza defined him as he grew up. _Now that Vegeta was living as an earthling, with no quest and no home, what did he want to do? What did he even care about? What might he want?_

Bulma felt a twinge of guilt about how frequently she thought ill of him, but only a little bit. He certainly earned all of the screams and smacks and sarcasm she fed him. Bulma thought back to his face from yesterday again, how he sneered at her when he stretched. In response, she found her hand sliding down her thigh. She wondered what a super-strong, devoted, alien warrior might do to a woman's body if given the opportunity. _What were Saiyan women like? And what did Vegeta do with_ _them?_ Now her thoughts focused squarely on Vegeta's body. She imagined his eyes gazing into hers, as they often did from a distance or over dinner. She imagined him coming towards her hungrily, reaching for her. Bulma was shocked at the reaction her body was taking to this line of thought, but it had been so long, she dared not jinx it by asking any critical questions. In her mind's eye, Vegeta wordlessy removed her bra, and back in the tub Bulma caressed her left breast the way he might, dipping below the water to take a firm hold of it from the underside and squeeze. She began to breathe heavier as her legs slid up and down the tub, restless. In reaction, her free hand completed its journey up her thigh and began to tease her womanhood, slow in circles at first just on the outer flesh. She slid two fingers up and down those lips, catching her pleasure hub between them with each stroke before finally swirling her index finger down into herself.

* * *

After a long day of training, Vegeta headed into the house. He had not seen the woman all day, and he wondered if she had come home yet. He would have seen the headlights from the town car as it sped past. Vegeta wanted to eat, but nothing was prepared as he passed through the kitchen. Fine, he would shower and take a brief rest first. He headed up the stairs to his room, which was across the hall from Bulma's opulent living quarters, when he smelled something peculiar almost like flowers. He sniffed at the air, shrugged, and realized it was the familiar smell of Bulma's flowery bath salts. He continued with his evening routine, sat on the edge of his bed, and removed his sneakers. Then his head shot up. _No. Not the bath product._

He slowly returned to the hallway. He stood silent trying to listen. He heard quiet, labored breathing and the feminine timbre of a voice. His nostrils flared as he deeply inhaled. His heightened, alien senses could hear and smell much more than humans, but earth dwellings were so overrun with strong smells, it was difficult to notice the little things. When he finally parsed out the scent that had his senses on edge, his eyes widened, and his body stiffened. He stood for a moment in awe and disbelief. His legs moved toward Bulma's room without him willing them to. He should not enter her private quarters, but the door was ajar, and his feet seemed to have a mind of their own now. He had never smelled this of humans, but he instinctively knew the scent of female arousal.

He looked around the bedroom, but there was no one there. His ears pricked up when a sound came from the bathroom, the door to which was wide open. He heard again the labored breathing and some splashing. The smell of her arousal at this close distance was dizzying, and he crept towards the door to the bathroom. His heart nearly stopped when she suddenly breathed his name. "Ve-ge-ta", came the low murmur. Had she heard him? Improbable, but since he was found out as might as well admit his presence. He stepped just inside the door.

But her eyes were closed, and her breathing continued. She had no idea he was there. And her body…. If Vegeta felt stiff before, he now utterly turned to stone. Her shoulders and knees jutted out of the water, and her head was tilted back against the marble, sweaty or wet from the bath he couldn't tell. Her eyelids were pressed tightly shut, and she panted through parted lips. Her nipples rose out of the water with each breath and then fell into the bath again. One hand massaged her neck and came back down across the curve of a breast. With the other hand, Bulma was fast at work on herself, the source of the minor splashes he'd heard as her arm dipped in, out, and around her dark center. "Vegeta…." she moaned again. Her back slowly arched out of the water. Now her breasts did the splashing as her movements graduated from slow to quick and jerking.

Vegeta could barely breathe. His mind was rushing as he watched Bulma pleasure herself to thoughts of him. He didn't think she even liked him. She hated speaking to him! She constantly yelled at him! He loved when she yelled at him, of course, but he never imagined those lips telling him anything that wasn't dripping with disdain, much less dripping with sexual innuendo. He obviously did not understand earth women or earth mating culture _at all._

Bulma's eyes fluttered open as she continued her work, and reactively Vegeta pulled away from the door. For some reason he found himself anxious at being caught watching. He hastily retreated from the bathroom, rushed over to his room, and sat against the connecting wall to her bathroom. Resting his head against the cement, he focused all his senses on listening through the wall. He listened for every pant, every motion, every little sound that came from Bulma's lips as her pleasure continued to build. His hand reached inside his shorts and tugged at his own heavy arousal. His eyes closed on their own, and his neck craned as he stroked in time with her breath. Her voice started increasing in pitch and coming faster, and his own hand quickened up and down his flesh to match. His fist pounded against his sack with each furious downward stroke. His teeth grinded together, his eyebrows creased, and all the blood in his body seemed to drain down to his pink, pulsing head. Bulma's loud cry of release beyond the wall was complemented by the heavy splash of her legs in the tub. Heat flashed throughout Vegeta's face and neck as he reacted to it, the most sensual of sounds he'd ever heard, and he lost control of his erection as he pulled it one final time.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, Bulma hesitated about going down to breakfast. Her late night bath had been relaxing. More than relaxing…. her bath had been incredible! That was the best orgasm she'd had in as long as she could remember, and her headache was gone almost as soon as she began. What made her nervous now was the embarrassment she would undoubtedly experience seeing Vegeta at breakfast. How could she even make eye contact? How could she converse with him like nothing happened? In the span of twenty minutes last night she had gone from hating the very thought of him to wanting him to take her like a lusty mountain man.

"Human brain, you are _crazy_ ," she mumbled to herself as she padded into the bathroom to brush her teeth. Even looking at the tub as she brushed made her blush. _That tub has seen some things…._

She wrapped herself in her robe and followed the smell of grilled sausage down to the kitchen.

The only voices she heard when she entered were her mother's and father's, so she was surprised to find Vegeta seated in his usual spot filling his gullet.

"Good morning, dear!" Bunny cooed as she worked a spatula.

"Hi, mom." Bulma kept eye contact with her mother, not wanting to meet the gaze of last night's veritable 'lover'. She padded over to the stove and picked a piece of egg right out of the pan to eat. She just stood there, facing the stove, digging one pair of toes into the tile to alleviate her tenseness.

"Why don't you take a seat, hun!"

Bulma let out her breath through her nose and nodded, turning around to finally face the table. As she moved towards her chair, she allowed her eyes to come up and meet Vegeta's. He was already looking at her, and their eyes met. She sat down, but he just kept staring. She looked away, feeling flushed, and it appeared he did the same. However, after she took a pancake and a sausage link, she looked up again and caught him looking at her again, chewing silently.

"Bulma?" her father said.

"Hm?" she replied, breaking away from the intense Saiyan gaze.

Her father swallowed and repeated himself. "I said, why don't you take a stab at the gravity killswitch today if you're free?"

She looked over again at Vegeta who was still watching her over the rim of his glass.

"Sure," she said, and she swore she saw the corner of Vegeta's mouth arch up through the glass. But as soon as she thought she saw it, it was gone.

Vegeta stood up from the table without any of his usual bravado and simply left the building. Bulma looked down at his empty plate speckled with leftover syrup and suddenly didn't feel hungry anymore. She swallowed another gulp of juice and resigned herself to an awkward afternoon in the Gravity Room.

* * *

It was a hot afternoon already. Bulma donned a thin, low-hanging t-shirt under her overalls in preparation for spending the whole of it underneath a circuit console. There was no air conditioner in the Gravity Room. Dr. Briefs had offered countless times to install one, but Vegeta preferred the heat, calling it another challenge to press his limits.

She left the Gravity Room door propped open in the hopes of catching some afternoon breeze, but it only came sporadically. She could hear the huffs, puffs, and kicks of Vegeta training outside on the lawn and smiled coyly at her dirty thoughts. She might hate the man, but by that afternoon she had forgiven herself that innocent fantasy. After all, there were no other men around, Yamucha kept his distance, and Vegeta was certainly a specimen to behold. Why shouldn't she have some fun with him in her head, especially if it helped her unwind? She so desperately needed that orgasm last night, and now felt at ease in her element: navigating electrical wires. The heat was making her sweat through her shirt, but at least the fabric was thin and breathable.

Suddenly she heard footsteps in the chamber. She peeked up over the console to see Vegeta looking around at the equipment. She expected him to yell at her to "hurry up" or complain about the lack of progress he was making thanks to her "incessantly malfunctioning machinery", but he didn't. Silence. He locked eyes with her over the console, and she smiled before she said, "I should have it up and running by tonight maybe."

A light grunt came from his throat, which was his usual mode of approval. Bulma liked to pretend it was Saiyan for "thank you", but knew better.

She stood up and climbed atop the console, reaching with her tiptoes to pull down a wire from the ceiling. "Can you pass me the cutters?" she asked of Vegeta.

He complied silently, coming forward to pick up the tool and hand it to her. Their fingers met, and she again was surprised at his lack of admonishments. She performed the task and then decided he was acting too weird. She knelt down on top of the console, leaning forward on her hands to meet him face to face with a smirk of her own. "What, no whining today? Cat got your tongue?" she sassed him.

But Vegeta wasn't looking at her face, she realized. She followed his line of sight to her braless chest, which dangled in a sweaty heap barely covered by her pink tee's plunging neckline. As she realized he was ogling her, she sat back on her haunches and flushed a bright shade of pink that probably matched her tee. As she acknowledged that she loved his sudden attentions, she felt her nipples betray her thoughts and begin to harden. Her overalls did not come up high enough to hide them from him, she realized. He didn't look away, which frustratingly made her nipples harden even more beneath the fabric, and she gulped in embarrassment as she watched him devour them with his eyes.

Finally, Vegeta looked up to meet her eyes again. She cleared her throat awkwardly, unsure of what to say. Apparently she didn't need to say anything, because he clicked his heel, turned around, and left the Gravity Room.

An alarming thought shot through her. _Did….he hear me masturbating last night?_ The sweat on her chest and forehead went cold. Of course his alien ears heard something; his room is right next to the bathroom! The looks all morning, the awkward silences…. _Oh god, how am I ever coming back from this one?_ She grappled with deciding whether Vegeta was offended, disgusted, disappointed, or intrigued. Of course, she decided it must be a combination of the first three. After a stunned minute of mortifying immobility, she sighed, stepped down from the console, and went back to work. She would have given anything to trade this experience back in for the yelling version of Vegeta.

Just then, hard footsteps returned. Bulma looked up in time to see Vegeta coming straight towards her. Before she could even say anything, Vegeta grabbed her by the hips and lifted her to sit atop the console, facing him. Without hesitation or even making eye contact, Vegeta slid his hands through her neckline, picked up her breasts, and dropped them outside of her shirt. The sudden intimate contact made her gasp, but she dared not protest or even move her hands from either side of her. Vegeta clearly had one thing on his mind and went about fulfilling that desire systematically. He started by squeezing and brushing her breasts against each other. Through parted lips his breath was slow and heavy, like he had thought about this many times before. He looked up whilst continuing to massage. Bulma returned his gaze without comment, her spine slightly moving in time with his hands as she began to live out part of her fantasy from the night before.

Apparently finding the answer he wanted from her eyes, Vegeta brought his mouth to mirror his hands' motions. His kisses deftly traveled across the expanse of her chest with choice licks and bites before repeating. He paid careful attention to the whole of each mound's circumference, panting heavily as he did so. One thumb began to focus adamantly on a nipple as his mouth took the other. Bulma couldn't hold back moans, and he bit and growled in response. As his oral and tactile ministrations continued, Bulma's body reacted in kind, grasping Vegeta behind his head and roping her legs around his waist. Her hands played in his hair before sliding down to rest behind his ears. Heat rocketed through her body, and she gasped as his mouth continued its lip-smacking nippleplay. His kisses were purposeful, his suckling demanding. She began to feel as though her nipples had swollen to impossible magnitudes. Just when she thought one had reached critical levels, abused and slick with saliva, he would pull at it with his teeth or fingers, and she would cry out. He would trace his tongue in circles around the areola afterward in seeming apology before returning to suckle once again. He would pull her breasts together to compare nipples side by side, and if one had swollen more, he would torture the other with his mouth until they matched, laughing through her cries all the while.

Finally, his lips slowed, and his hands came to a standstill cupping her thoroughly worshipped bosom. When he looked up, Bulma was panting, her eyes fluttering open and then closed again. She knew he had to feel the swamp between her legs as it pressed against his abdomen and hoped he had no plans to stop here.

But he did. Vegeta stood up, hovered close to Bulma's face just for a moment, and then turned and left again.

Not a word had been exchanged.


	3. Chapter 3

Bulma hadn't seen Vegeta for the rest of the day or night. After he left her in the Gravity Room, she had sat there stunned and dissatisfied before giving up on his return and running into the house. She left her engineering work unfinished and retreated to her room to curl up in bed and stare out the window. Holding herself, she replayed the scene in her head over and over. Sometimes she sighed and sometimes she laughed. She couldn't quite fathom what had happened and how she and Vegeta had even ended up there. Why did he suddenly lunge at her so sexually? And say absolutely nothing? And then just _leave_? Bulma decided he _must_ have heard her masturbating last night, and he might even know she'd thought of him the whole time.

Once she got over the shock, Bulma simply laid back, arms beneath her pillow, and sighed again. She could hear birds outside and took notice of them for the very first time. A boorish, hot afternoon had turned into one where the subject of her lust came on to her and birds were singing. _What a day!_ And what a hyper-sexual overture he'd made! _Most guys open with a kiss, you know, Vegeta…._ she thought before bursting into another fit of giggles. Vegeta isn't "most guys".

Vegeta never appeared for dinner, so Bunny foiled a few plates for him and left them in the refrigerator. Without the Gravity Room operational, Bunny and Dr. Briefs concluded over dinner that he must have flown elsewhere to train until Bulma completed her repairs. Bulma tried not to smile as she ate, thinking he may also have flown elsewhere to avoid another completely embarrassing meal seated across from each other.

The next morning, Bulma woke bright and early with newfound determination. This fantasy _would_ be a reality, and she would entice Vegeta into bed with her. She wasn't sure where or how she would enact her plan, but it centered around a short skirt and zero panties. She took double her usual time in the shower and spent most of her morning primping to achieve a very careful allure—that look that says "I'm flawless, and I don't even try". She avoided breakfast and snacked here and there throughout the morning instead. She kept an ear out for Vegeta as she pretended to work in her room, although her "work" turned out to be nervous web surfing and anxious gadget tinkering to pass the time, checkered with glances out the window. Around 11, the sun was higher in the sky, and sure enough she heard the familiar grunts of a certain Saiyan training on the lawn. Not wanting to look too eager, she dillydallied in her room for another thirty minutes as she listened to him exercise. When she felt it had been long enough, she grabbed her tool bag and headed down to the kitchen. Before opening the sliding door to the west yard, she took one last deep breath and held her head high as she coolly walked out. Flinging the toolbag over her shoulder, she sashayed past him in her tiniest skirt and up the stairs into the Gravity Chamber, letting the door swing shut behind her.

She wasn't sure if Vegeta had noticed, but immediately after thinking that she rolled her eyes. Of course he had. Vegeta was a man who noticed everything.

She returned to her analysis of the gravity killswitch issue and absent-mindedly worked, wondering if the Prince would make an appearance. Ten minutes in, she heard steps on the stairs and felt her stomach leap. She stifled a smile as the door opened. She looked up to see a grinning Vegeta standing silhouetted against the open door. After a moment, he slowly pulled it shut, and Bulma heard the light clink that meant he had locked it. She looked up again and returned his intense gaze as he slowly stepped towards her. She stopped what she was doing and stood up, pliers still in hand. She stepped in front of the panels and leaned against them as she flashed him a coy smile. "Good morning."

His grin widened as he paused in front of her. He looked down at her legs as he shared his observation, the first words he had spoken to her in days: "What small pants you're wearing today."

She laughed with a blush. "We call it a skirt."

"I don't care," he grunted as he reached for her and lifted her onto the console like he had the day before. This time his hands hovered over her legs. His hands dropped down and snaked under her thighs, pulling them open. His head fell back, and he breathed deeply. "Your smell," he gasped, looking down at her again.

Bulma wasn't going to lose this opportunity. She wrapped one arm around his neck as she steadied herself with the other. Bulma leaned in close to Vegeta, holding his gaze, and then whispered to him, "I want you." She sealed her boldness with a fierce kiss, holding him captive by the neck. He didn't fight it, though, and opened his mouth to accept, kissing her earnestly in return. When he broke away it was to watch as he finished opening her legs. His eyebrows leapt, presumably taking note of her lack of undergarment. He did not seem to mind the easy access, for he immediately slid his hands up to the base of her thighs, fell to his knees, and leaned forward to take what she so wetly offered.

His mouth thirstily engaged with her as his hands gripped her buttocks and held her in place. His lips kissed and dragged around her fleshy folds. His kisses gradually drew toward her epicenter, beginning low and licking his way egregiously slowly up to tease the kernel of flesh that would unleash her pleasure. Bulma laid back with her elbows against the cool metal and almost forgot to breathe. She spread her legs wider for him and bucked upwards to meet his mouth, starting a rhythm with her hips that his hands echoed. His licking and kissing continued, as devoted as yesterday's, and her heat cranked up to boiling. She felt her moisture collecting, combining with his own saliva. The dizzying, tingling sensations throughout her lusting core were tightening. Her moans came unbidden and grew in pitch, caught between her short intakes of breaths. She heard his lips still working on her as she began to lose sensory reception, so overwhelmed was her womanhood. It began to pulse in and out until it finally imploded. Her gasps accompanied the eruption, followed by the jerking of her legs against his head, but he clung on to her even as she came and involuntarily fought against his mouth.

She heard his hoarse voice from between her legs: "What do you call this?"

"Hmm?" She could barely form thoughts as her spasms slowed and she regained control. She lifted her head from the control panel to see his face peeking over her skirt. But his eyes were closed, and his mouth continued grazing back and forth over her folds, making patterns in her seeping fluid.

"This," he specified by adding the tip of his forefinger to her entrance and teasing it.

"P-p…" she stuttered through wheezing breaths, "pussy."

He whispered the word into her wetness, committing it to memory, and kissed his way back through the crevasse of flesh to tease her again. With a final titillating lick, he rose to his feet.

Vegeta's expression grew even more arrogant as he stared down at her, flashing teeth through his grin. He wiped his mouth on his forearm before opening his shorts. Bulma barely had time to compose herself and sit up before he was stroking himself, fully exposed to the open air. With each stroke his eyes grew more eager, looking only between her legs again. He moistened his lips with his tongue and then grabbed her by the hip as he forced his length in deep. She cried out and grabbed his shoulders to steady herself, relishing the touch of the appendage she'd so fondly noticed in his shorts during training sessions. His flesh made shlocking noises as it slid in and out of her wet sheath. He rocked against her body and panted into her chest. His hands crawled upwards from their perch on her hips, and when they reached her shoulders they ripped open her shirt. Buttons were sent clattering across the room.

She had foregone a bra today too, but for a different reason. Vegeta was welcomed by his handiwork from yesterday: two incredibly tender nipples at attention, swollen to twice their size and bruising at their bulbous tips. Her rosy areolas, too, were raw from his suckling. He grunted with pride watching the battered peaks nod in time with his thrusts. He started slamming into her then, sending her breasts clapping against her abdomen. Vegeta growled in appreciation. His hands roamed desperately around her waist as he continued to pillage her, and he paused now and again to take an engorged nipple between his lips and pucker around it loudly. Her cries rang out as she dug her fingers deep into his hair and let him take absolutely everything he wanted.

Meanwhile in the house, Bulma's cell phone buzzed and buzzed. Yamucha found himself abandoned to voicemail.


	4. Chapter 4

_Three missed calls?_ Yamucha had incessantly called her all day, but Bulma spent the majority of the afternoon in the Gravity Room otherwise engaged with the resident Saiyan Prince. The thought of Vegeta just then sent lightning bolts from her temples down through her loins, and she bit her lip trying not to giggle. She threw her phone into the laundry bin and sprawled on her bed with a smile. She couldn't stop hugging herself and touching her skin, running fingers again over her flesh in places where Vegeta had. They'd spent hours together. Vegeta certainly had a warrior's stamina, and Bulma had basked in orgasm after delicious orgasm. Their tensions shared on the Capsule Corp campus had finally apexed, and they'd sated their needs with the other's more than willing assistance. Maybe this shared, mind-blowing experience was just what Vegeta and Bulma needed to move past their rocky interactions into something more civil, Bulma thought. Guiltily, she realized that ever since Vegeta came on to her the day before last and initiated physical contact, she hadn't thought of Yamucha once. Not for a single moment. She decided she would call Yamucha back tomorrow once she could think of absolutely anything else besides the juicy sex she'd just had with Vegeta. She fell asleep almost instantly.

* * *

Bulma didn't get a chance to call Yamucha after all. He let himself in through the west entrance the next morning. Security knew his face and the nature of his relationship with Bulma Briefs and never question him. When Yamucha barged into the living room (in that heavy-footed way that he did), Bulma had just come out of her morning shower. She heard him downstairs calling for her, and she tightened the towel around her chest, combed her hair, and leapt down the stairs to say hello.

"Oh… good morning, Bulma!" Yamucha greeted her, staring longingly at the two pale mounds bubbling over her tightly secured towel before meeting her eye to eye. As they got comfortable in the living room and briefly breakfasted on a tangerine and pear, Yamucha explained that he and Tien were in town for the weekend taking a break from their mountain training retreat. "So can I see you tonight? We'll eat in and crash early like last time?" he said with a knowing wiggle of his eyebrows.

She smiled at him. "No, let's go out first. I haven't seen you in weeks! You meat-heads keep running off from civilization, leaving me here bored out of my mind!"

"Well, if we took you training, you'd be way more bored," Yamucha noted, which made her laugh and nod in agreement.

Someone else on the compound noted Yamucha's arrival too. The door opened from the lawn, and Vegeta appeared in a blur of motion to stand before them both. He glared at Yamucha, then at her, and back to Yamucha again.

Yamucha nodded and murmured a "hey", as he did with people he didn't like but to whom he wanted to be polite.

" _What_ are you doing here?" Vegeta all but snarled.

Yamucha was taken aback. "W-what? What is your problem, Vegeta?"

"You can't come here. And you-" his furious eyes held Bulma's now. "Presenting your udders to him in that fashion! Get upstairs!"

Bulma was stunned and blinked at him. "Don't talk to her like that," Yamucha was saying next to her, but Bulma shook her head in disbelief: "My WHAT?"

Vegeta snorted and rolled his eyes. "Your mammalian milk receptacles. Cover them and leave so I can give this weakling the beating he deserves. How DARE you, human male scum-"

She crossed her arms, fuming. "OK, stop. What the hell, Vegeta? They're breasts! And Yamucha is my _boyfriend_ and can come and go as I please. Get a grip!"

Vegeta began to emit the faintest yellow glow from his skin. "He's your WHAT?!"

Bulma stood up and tugged Yamucha towards the door trying to quickly diffuse the scene. "Come back at 7, okay?"

Yamucha began to protest. "Bulma, get this psycho out of your house! I've told you a million times, I won't have it!"

Vegeta barged in between them. "You won't have it? YOU?"

"Enough!" Bulma screamed as she gave Yamucha a final shove out the door and kicked it closed behind him. She turned and slammed her back against the door to face her troublesome new lover.

"You look here, Vegeta. We had a steamy time, OK? It was great. I really needed it…. We both really needed it, I think. But what are you even on about?" Vegeta's pursed lips twitched in time with his eyebrow, but she continued. "….I didn't imagine you'd be possessive like this, or even care! What do you think is going on here?"

He threw up his arms and spoke in his usual arrogant fashion. "Well you're _mine_ , of course!"

She clicked her tongue and stormed away from him, heading up the stairs.

Vegeta sourly followed her. It seemed there was no shaking him, so she allowed him to follow her into her room and then closed the door. "Vegeta…." she began as his eyes remained glued on her. His anger was palpable, although she couldn't believe he was actually jealous! Are they really about to have _the talk_?! "I'm flattered, really. ….But you have to understand. A hot fling doesn't mean we're a thing…."

He grunted, his arms still crossed. He looked away from her now, but she continued: "I mean, it was hot. _So_ hot. It was…..OK, look, it was amazing. The best sex on Earth, are you happy now? ….But, do you seriously think I'd give up ten years with Yamucha for a fling with some pig-headed alien?"

He stepped towards her then. Something set him off. "And do _you_ think I would let someone else taste what I have taken for myself? The Saiyan prince sharing his spoils with human trash?" He grabbed her under her arms and held her in place as he spat his words in her face. "What I have deemed fit for myself is not worthy of a clown so pitiful and worthless. ….. _You_ wanted me. I heard you! I smelled you! I smell you still. Even now you emit your want for me!"

Bulma was shaking, half from nerves and half from his convincing seduction. His possessiveness, his attention for her was making her wild, and she certainly was getting warm between her legs. Of course he knew that.

"What can he even do for a creature like you?" Vegeta pressed on, running his hands up her back to keep her close. She knew he probably had her right where he wanted her, and she had no response. Vegeta roused a long-dead passion in her, perhaps the first true womanly passion she'd ever really had. Her passion for Yamucha when they were teenagers was girlish: all giggles, stomach butterflies, and groping in the dark. What kept them together now? History? Was that all?

As Vegeta leaned in to capture her lips, she didn't deny him. In fact, she closed her eyes and opened her mouth to him. As they kissed, he walked her back to the bed and laid her down. She let him pull her towel away, stare, and then swoop back in to continue kissing her. They laid there tangling in the other for—minutes? An hour? Bulma didn't have a clue. Never in her life had she kissed a man or been kissed like this. Everything that could be touched was caressed, all the while never parting their mouths. There was barely time for breath as their lips changed positions to bite and suckle the other's again. They rolled across the bed kissing with the fury that came so easily to them both. As Bulma's hands moved desperately over his body, Vegeta at last lost his shirt and track pants. She would probably find them ripped on the floor later.

Bulma's legs wrapped through his, and she felt fingers sneaking around her inner thighs in response. Before she could respond, a finger was toying between her lips and whisking proof of her excitement in circles. When she felt that finger pull away and Vegeta's tip slip into her, she broke his kiss to throw her head back and moan. It teased on the edge but never dipped beneath the crest of her moist quicksand. Bulma's hips jerked into his movements, but he wouldn't let her have it. With one hand he held her at an angle against his chest as the other hand slid urgently up and down her hip, her waist, and over the side of a breast. "Beg me," he whispered.

She accidentally smiled, a gesture he accidentally mirrored.

"No," she retorted.

He slowed his hips and made his swooping teases even crueler. Her pit tried to swallow him when he teased too deeply, but he pulled himself clear each time. "Beg me" he repeated into the crook of her neck.

"Mmpf" came her muffled reply, shaking her head. She couldn't hold out under this duress, and finally her legs tightened against his thighs, and her depths throbbed one last time for him. "Vegeta…. please."

* * *

At Saiyan speed he responded, pumping her lower muscles faster than she could follow, displacing cream with every plunge. The thick flesh of her hips and breasts rippled as he rocked her forward and back.

Now that she was sufficiently distracted, Vegeta reached behind her head and took her phone from the bedside table. He had watched her use it countless times and knew what to press to achieve his goal.

Recent Calls. Yamucha. Video Call.

 _Dialing….._

He propped it against her lamp, grinned, and returned his hands to her body, touching her everywhere he could reach as he continued to gorge her ravenous loins on his meat.

"You are mine! MINE!" he growled into her neck. "Not thinking of that weakling _now_ , are you!" He laughed maniacally as he licked his way up the side of her jaw and then grasped her lips with his in a breathless, dueling kiss. He banged his proud, Saiyan flesh into her like a hammer to a nail and received Bulma's breathless mewling as answer. Her eyes were squeezed shut as she concentrated only on funneling her excitement, willing it to burst forth from between her thighs at any moment.

" _Who makes your pussy ooze_?" he screamed, not knowing the word for orgasm.

Bulma could barely relay language, so heavy were her moans with the labor of breathing. "Y-youuu."

Vegeta leaned back and smacked her hard on the side of her buttocks. The reverberation from the bed knocked the phone from its perch to land on the floor. Capturing only the sights of uneven ceiling paint, the sounds of moans and creaking continued to still reach the phone. The bed frame was slamming into the wall over and over again.

" _And to whom do you belong?!"_ Vegeta's voice carried over the pounding of the wall.

She found her voice as her body convulsed and her muscles smothered his manhood. "VEGETAAAA!" The movements of the bed ceased, but Bulma's cries continued. When she began to calm, Vegeta pulled out, rolled her over to face the sheets, and pulled her up to him by the ankles.

"Don't you forget," he growled, pulling her feet apart and burying his face in the utterly pummeled delta between her legs. The phone's speaker transmitted a cacophony of wet, slopping noises, and then the phone went dark. The recipient had ended the call. Never losing his smirk, Vegeta continued lapping her up from the bowl of her vulva until she cried for him to stop. But he didn't stop, and not long after she convulsed again, sending more of her sap down his chin to a soundtrack of her sighs.

She was his.


End file.
